


Someone To Drive You Home

by starsandgraces



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: AU, Formula One, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-14
Updated: 2010-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:59:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandgraces/pseuds/starsandgraces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Formula One AU. Hikaru's love life needs a jump start if he wants to get on the right track with his race engineer. It comes in the form of an unforeseen accident and some questionable advice from Jim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone To Drive You Home

**Author's Note:**

> [withthepilot](http://withthepilot.livejournal.com/) has been absolutely invaluable here, both as my beta and general cheerleader, especially as she knows nothing about F1. Jake Humphrey and Kamui Kobayashi are both real people involved in F1 and I do not own them (but if you can't guess why I wrote the latter in...). You don't need any familiarity with F1 to read, but with more input from [withthepilot](http://withthepilot.livejournal.com/), I've written [a short glossary](http://starsandgraces.livejournal.com/3040.html#cutid1) that should cover any F1 terms mentioned in the fic that may be unclear. The title is from the Long Blondes album of the same name.

Hikaru shoves Jim against the wall of his hotel room as soon as he's through the door, clenching his fingers in Jim's hair and sucking at his mouth, kissing him hungrily. "You're late, where've you been?" he asks.

"Photo shoot," Jim says, fisting his hands in Hikaru's t-shirt and trying to push him away.

"Another one? Golden boy," Hikaru says teasingly. He lets Jim turn them around and press him into the wall.

"What can I say? The camera loves me, baby."

Hikaru groans. "Seriously? How did you fit your ego through the door to get in here, Kirk?" He reaches down to pull his t-shirt off, flicking it across the room. Jim does the same with his top and runs his thumb over Hikaru's lower lip slowly.

"It's a talent." He leans in to kiss Hikaru again, his hands dropping to strip him of his trousers, which fall to the floor, closely followed by his own. "Jesus, I can't wait to be inside you."

"Back up," Hikaru says. "What makes you think I'm going to let you do something like that?" He curls his fingers around Jim's cock and squeezes to emphasise his point, twisting his hand slightly—the way he knows Jim likes.

"Hngh," says Jim.

"Yeah, I thought so." He keeps his hand on Jim's dick and guides him over to the bed. "Always knew you were led by your dick, Kirk," he says, resting his palm against Jim's chest and pushing him down onto the mattress.

Jim looks up at him and laughs shakily. "Did you do that _just_ to make that joke? Because that was terrible."

"It was worth it," Hikaru says with a grin. He straddles Jim's thighs, squeezing his cock again until Jim bucks up into his hand. "Good? I'm guessing this isn't the way you want to come, though."

He shakes his head. "Fuck me, if you're going to fuck me," he says. He twists out from beneath Hikaru, managing to rub himself against Hikaru's thigh as he does so. He'd roll his eyes if he wasn't so damn turned on by the sight and the feel of it.

Hikaru picks up the tube he left on the nightstand in preparation for exactly this and squirts lube onto his fingers, coating them carefully. When he turns back to face the bed, Jim's shifted onto his knees and elbows, angling his ass up into the air.

"I know how much you love seeing me spread like this for you," Jim says, looking back over his shoulder at Hikaru.

Hikaru slaps Jim's ass and he groans. "I think you like it more than I do," he says, trying not to let his voice give him away. Good thing Jim can't see his dick. He runs his fingers down the insides of Jim's thighs, leaning down to scrape his teeth lightly over one of his cheeks. "I think you're just a cockslut."

"That's where you're wrong," Jim says. "I'm an equal-opportunity slut. Why limit your _self_ , _fuck_..." He trails off as Hikaru circles one slick finger around his hole, pressing the tip into him slowly.

"I'm getting that."

He fucks Jim with his fingers until he's trembling and letting out shaky little gusts of breath with every brush against his prostate. "Next time," he says, panting, "I'm going to fuck you so hard you scream my name."

Hikaru leans right forward until his mouth is against Jim's ear. "Yeah, but this time, it's my turn to fuck _you_."

He eases his fingers out of Jim and picks up the condom. Tearing open the packet, he rolls it over his cock and then uses the lube still on his fingers to slick himself up before he presses the head against Jim's entrance and thrusts into him with one fluid movement. Jim groans again, tensing momentarily around Hikaru's dick.

When he starts to thrust, it's slow and deep; not exactly how he knows Jim wants it. Jim moans in frustration, unable to coax Hikaru into moving faster and equally unable to speed anything up himself, with Hikaru's hands holding him firmly in position. He knows Jim's going to make him suffer for doing this, the next time they fuck, but it's so satisfying right now that Hikaru thinks it might even be worth it. He draws it out for as long as he can until Jim actually whimpers with need, inching his thighs further apart.

He grabs at the headboard when Hikaru finally gives in, digging his fingers into Jim's hips and pulling him back onto his cock in time with his quickening movements. He grunts as he slams into Jim, feeling the changes in his body as he gets closer to orgasm.

"You gonna touch yourself?" he asks, pausing for a moment. "I know you need it, and I'm not going to give it to you this time."

"Fuck you," Jim says, but he still drops one hand from the headboard to pump himself quickly. It just takes two or three strokes until he comes hard and fast—like he always does—and Hikaru doesn't take long to follow him over the edge, moving one hand to the small of Jim's back and thrusting deeply as he does so.

He pulls out and tosses the condom. In the time it takes him, Jim's already rolled away from the wet spot on the bed and settled on the other side. "Ah, fuck it," Hikaru says.

Jim stretches his arms over his head, looking up at him. "Don't worry, man, I can't stay tonight. You can sleep here once I'm gone."

"That's considerate of you." He grimaces at the bed. "What about right now?"

"You don't want to cuddle?" Jim asks, then rolls his eyes. "I'm going to use the bathroom, princess; you can have whichever side of the bed you want." He gets up and makes for the en suite, slapping Hikaru's ass on the way past.

"Thanks," Hikaru says dryly. While Jim's in the bathroom, he scrubs at the come on the sheets with a handful of tissues, trying to get as much off as he can before putting them in the garbage. He can hear the shower running, and wonders who else Jim's planning on seeing tonight.

He reaches for the TV remote, turning it on as he gets into the bed and pushes the pillows around until they're in a position he's happy with. "Who is it tonight?" he asks when Jim comes out of the bathroom, combing his hair with his fingers.

"No one you know," Jim replies. He sounds a touch defensive, which is unusual for him. Normally Jim can't wait to over share about his latest conquest.

"Okay," he says, and they both fall silent as Jim goes to find his clothes and get dressed again. He finds something that looks semi-interesting on the TV and clicks up the volume a few notches.

Jim snaps his fingers to get Hikaru's attention. He's halfway out of the room already, just his head and arm still inside. "See you on Thursday at Silverstone, Hikaru. By the way, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"As if, Jim," Hikaru replies, mostly to the closing door.

This thing they have has been going on for a while. It's not a regular thing, nor is it something they publicise at all. Hikaru is pretty sure there'd be a massive uproar if it got out that the two biggest contenders for this season's championship were fucking each other, not to mention the accusations of spying both of them would endure. The FIA definitely would not approve.

Hikaru doesn't have any desire to be in a relationship with Jim, anyway, and he knows Jim feels the same way about him. It's just a casual thing to blow off some steam after a tough race or some frustrating press function (which, admittedly, Jim has more of than he does). And he's pretty sure, in any case, that Jim is deeply, deeply in lust with his team's doctor. If Hikaru was pressed for an opinion, he'd say it was kind of sweet.

Maybe that's who he's off to visit next.

***

Hikaru's wandering along the track towards the starting grid, not really paying attention to what's going on. There's reporters and mechanics and grid girls scattered all over the place, but most of them are focused on other things, thankfully. He's almost at his car when a heavy arm drops around his shoulders and a familiar voice says, "Speak of the devil!"

He pushes his sunglasses up onto the top of his head and forces a charming grin for the TV camera that's suddenly in his face. "Hey, Jim. Should my ears be burning?"

The reporter standing next to Jim holds the microphone in his hand up to Hikaru's face. Hikaru thinks his name's Jake or something like that. "We were just discussing the championship," Jake says. "There's only a few points between you at the moment; is this having an effect on your strategy for the race?"

"We're racing to win, the way we always do," Hikaru says. "Obviously it'd be great for the team if I'm on the podium at the end of this afternoon, especially if Jim here isn't." He grins again, and Jim pretends to punch him in the arm.

"You're the only two American drivers this season. Is it safe to say you're good friends?" Jake asks. Hikaru waves the microphone back towards Jim for this one.

"Well, you know, I hate the guy, but he's a fantastic driver. A worthy second," Jim says solemnly.

Hikaru nods. "Looking forward to saying that about you later," he says with a smirk, shrugging Jim's arm off and raising his hand to say goodbye. "Things to do, gentlemen."

"Thanks, Hikaru!" Jake calls after him, before turning back to Jim and the camera. "That was Red Bull's Hikaru Sulu. Now, Jim, what about the braking problems you were reporting during qualifying yesterday?"

"We're confident the problem's sorted now, and nothing seems to be reoccurring, so it's safe to say that it was a routine..."

Jim's voice trails off as Hikaru moves further away from him. The man was born to stand in front of a camera. He walks past his teammate, Kamui Kobayashi, who qualified in fourth—just ahead of Jim's teammate, Spock. Kamui's already in his car, ready to go.

Hikaru's car's waiting for him further along the grid, right next to Jim's. Scotty, Jim's race engineer, is just standing up from beside the black and golden car.

"You giving in and putting KERS into that beast yet, Scotty?" Hikaru asks when he gets there, reaching out to shake Scotty's hand.

Scotty grins and squeezes his hand a little too hard. "Ah, get to fuck! Does she look like a Renault to you?"

"I dunno, have you asked Spock to crash so Jim can get ahead in a race lately?"

"You're a bad man," Scotty says, but he's still smiling. "Good luck today, anyway. You're going to need it."

Hikaru's just opening his mouth to respond to the taunt when he hears someone calling his name from behind him. Pavel's rushing over, clipboard clutched under one arm. His headset's around his neck and his curls are tucked away, hidden under his team cap. He sees Pavel almost every day during race season—and a lot of the rest of the time, too—but the sight of him always makes Hikaru smile. "Hey," he says.

"We just need to go over your strategy, okay?" Pavel replies, not bothering with any pleasantries. He steers Hikaru away from Scotty by the arm.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, fine. I just don't think we should talk so close to Scotty." He purses his lips and holds out the clipboard. "The fuel loads suggest both Pike cars are on a two-stop strategy today. If you can get past Jim Kirk from the off, you'll have the advantage. But..."

"But I'm on the dirty side of the grid," Hikaru finishes, looking at the clipboard.

Pavel nods. "Exactly. But you've done it before, and this is one of your best circuits. Plus, unless the weather changes dramatically before we start, you're on the better tyres right now."

"So, I take it we're cautiously optimistic?"

"Something like that, yes."

In the end, unfortunately, cautiously optimistic isn't nearly enough, and it's not the best start he's ever had in a race. Not only does he not get past Jim, but Spock manages to slip past him on the third corner. _Kamui's going to be annoyed about that_ , he thinks. He does his best to keep up, but his heavier fuel tank is a hindrance at this point, and he's slowly but surely losing time.

Hikaru doesn't even see it coming. As he speeds along Hangar Straight, both Pike cars are just visible in front of him, and then a split-second later, there's black smoke and debris scattered across the tarmac at Stowe, and no sign of either Jim or Spock. He slams on his brakes and tries to avoid the worst of the wreckage. Something bounces off his front wing and he swerves slightly, but the moment passes and he's in clear air again.

"Son of a—Pavel, what the _hell_ just happened?" he half-yells into his radio, watching a tyre rolling across the track in his wing mirror.

He hears a curse that sounds Russian. It's half cut off by the radio, and then there's a long pause before Pavel replies. "The Pike cars have taken each other out. No news on what happened yet, but they're deploying the safety car. Did you hit anything?"

"Something clipped the front of the car, but it's fine; I don't need to come in. Is anyone hurt?"

This time, the pause is even longer. "Concentrate on your race, Hikaru," Pavel says flatly. And because it's the only thing he can do now, he does. At the slowed pace of the safety car, he has a chance to look at the crash site on the next lap. He can see one of the Pike drivers standing on the other side of the wall, but he's still moving too quickly to see which of them it is.

He wins the race, but it doesn't feel like a victory. Pavel's waiting for him on the other side of the barrier as he gets out of his car in _parc fermé_ , and he clutches at Hikaru's sleeve urgently as soon as he's within reach, leaning close to whisper into his ear. "Jim's in hospital," he says.

Hikaru's mouth goes dry. "It's serious?" he asks, though from the look on Pavel's face, the question's just a waste of his breath.

"I think so. No one has anything specific, just that his leg is badly broken."

"Which hospital?"

Pavel shakes his head helplessly. "I don't know, Hikaru. I really don't know." Then he's being pulled away from Pavel's grip for the necessary post-race measurements to be taken.

He practically sleepwalks through the podium ceremony and the press conference, on autopilot as he sprays champagne over the other two drivers on the podium and his team, dreaming through the same old questions from journalists. At the end he excuses himself, heading for the Pike garage, but Pavel intercepts him again.

"Hey, Hikaru," he starts, then he stops again. He's taken his cap off, Hikaru notices, and he has awful hat-hair. "Hikaru. Are you okay?"

"What do you think, Pavel? My friend's in the hospital and no one wants to tell me where he is or exactly what's happened." He clenches his fists, more out of frustration than any desire to hit Pavel.

"Come on," says Pavel, taking his arm and pulling him further along to the Red Bull garage. "I think you should see what happened, and then you need to go back to your hotel and try to think about something else. I could come with you, if you like."

Hikaru shrugs. "I don't think I'm in the mood for company."

Pavel's mouth turns down very slightly at the corners. "Of course not." He picks up his laptop and opens it, bringing up a webpage and clicking the play button before holding up the laptop for Hikaru to see.

On the screen, Jim's just turned onto the pit straight when he radios in. "I'm not happy with the rear brakes, Scotty."

"Can you hold on long enough to pit next time you come around, lad?" comes the reply.

"I think so," Jim says, and for a while it seems like he will. Then he shouts something indecipherable and he's spinning, a cloud of black smoke billowing out of the back of his car. He veers across the track, smashing into the nose of Spock's car and sending both of them off the track and into the tyre wall. Hikaru catches a glimpse of himself, seeming to avoid the junk on the track with ease. That isn't how he remembers it at all.

Pavel closes the window and shuts his laptop again. "Now you know."

"Fuck," Hikaru says. And because there's really nothing else to say, that's when he stops talking. Pavel tries to engage him a few times during the helicopter flight back to the hotel, but the most Hikaru is willing to give him is a shrug or a shake of his head.

When they arrive, Pavel asks again if he wants to spend some time together. "I really don't, Pavel. Not now." Hikaru sees something indefinable flicker across Pavel's face, but dismisses it. He's got too much on his mind right now to be bothered about whatever stupid thing he's done to annoy Pavel today.

"Fine," says Pavel shortly. "I will see you tomorrow at the factory, Hikaru."

"Yeah, you will," Hikaru snaps back, deciding that two can play at that game. "Goodnight." And with that, they both stomp off in different directions to their rooms.

In his room, he almost regrets turning down Pavel's offer of company. The only sports channel that isn't showing endless replays of Jim's crash and talking about how he has a career-threatening injury is showing golf instead, and Hikaru draws the line at watching golf, even at a time like this. He flicks through a few other channels, but they all seem to be airing terrible reality shows or repeats of ancient British sitcoms that aren't funny unless you're British.

He turns off the TV and flops back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. He can understand why Pike are keeping Jim's location a secret; the hospital would be flooded with journalists if even one of them found out. Hikaru assumes Jim's been airlifted to a hospital here in London, not that that narrows it down at all. He could spend the whole night phoning around and still not find out where Jim is.

His cell is ringing. It takes a moment for the sound to register, but when it does he sits up and grabs for the phone, checking the caller display. It's Jim, or at least someone calling from his phone. "Hello?" he says.

"Hikaru?" asks the voice on the other end of the line, and it almost sounds like Jim, but not quite. More serious, more mature.

"Mr Kirk," Hikaru says in surprise. He's met George Kirk before, of course, because George comes to every race with Jim and stands around looking wise and intimidating all at once, but getting a call from a living legend is another thing entirely. "How is he?" he blurts out, before he can stop himself.

"Jim's in surgery right now," George says, "but he should be out soon, and I think he'd like you to be here when he gets back and comes around. And I've told you before, you can call me George."

"Okay, sorry. I don't have a car—"

"I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of arranging someone to pick you up. He should be at your hotel in the next five minutes."

"You're scarily efficient," Hikaru says, forgetting who he's speaking to for a moment. "God, sorry, that just slipped out."

George laughs. "No offence taken, Hikaru. So, will you come?"

"Of course," he says immediately. "Does Jim need me to bring anything? I mean—is there anything he might need?"

"I think we've got everything, but thank you."

"Thank _you_ , Mr—uh, George," Hikaru says fervently, and means it.

True to George's word, there's a driver with an inconspicuous car ready for him when he reaches the hotel lobby. They drive across London quickly—probably breaking the speed limit more than once—with Hikaru fidgeting in the backseat. He thanks the driver profusely when they arrive and manages not to run into the hospital. Someone directs him to the right ward, which he finds after getting lost only twice, and somebody else lets him in there.

Spock and his girlfriend are both there, standing outside the door of what Hikaru assumes must be Jim's room. "Spock. Nyota," he says in greeting. He notices they're holding hands very tightly.

"Hikaru," says Nyota. Spock just inclines his head very slightly. "Chris, George and McCoy are talking to the doctors," she says then, in answer to his unspoken question. "Jim's in the recovery room. They said the anaesthetic won't wear off for a while and then, when they bring him back, he'll probably want to keep sleeping."

"But he's going to be okay?"

Nyota shrugs elegantly. "I suppose that depends on your definition of okay."

"I do not think Jim will be walking away from this," Spock says suddenly. "Not this time."

"The break's that bad?" Hikaru asks, his heart sinking. He wants to win the championship, but not like this. Not if he's only going to win because Jim can't race.

The identical looks on their faces tell him everything he needs to know, even before Nyota says, "We don't really know any of the specifics, but..." She trails off, shrugging again.

"Where's Scotty?" Hikaru asks, looking around for him. "I thought he'd be here; he's one of Jim's best friends."

"He blames himself, despite there being no way he could have known this would happen. The fault was unapparent prior to the crash," Spock says.

Hikaru exhales. "That must be rough on him."

Eventually, a nurse manages to persuade the three of them to wait in something she calls the "relatives room", and they sit on cheaply upholstered seats that have been pushed together to make a sort of couch. Nyota and Hikaru sip disgusting instant coffee while Spock flicks through one of the outdated gossip magazines that are piled on the table in the middle of the room. After a while, Spock falls asleep against Nyota's shoulder, and she combs her manicured fingers through his hair slowly and rhythmically. Hikaru feels as if he's intruding on something intimate and deeply personal when his eyes meet Nyota's.

He looks away again, reaching for the magazine Spock discarded.

McCoy's the one who comes to tell them Jim's back from the recovery room and waking up. He's the Pike team doctor, and that's pretty much all Hikaru knows about him. McCoy keeps his personal life to himself; Jim once told Hikaru that McCoy's ex-wife divorced him because she couldn't stand the way his job kept him away from home for more than half the year. According to Jim, he'd decided after that that he didn't need the trouble of personal relationships, to the point of refusing to let anyone call him by anything but his surname. Hikaru isn't even sure what McCoy's given name is.

"He's not going to be up for much talking when he does wake," McCoy tells them, pushing open the door to Jim's private room and standing back to let them pass. "So don't expect too much. He's on a lot of painkillers."

Artificial sleep makes Jim look smaller than he really is. His father is sitting next to the head of his bed, and Chris Pike is standing just behind the chair. Hikaru nods to them both, reaching out to shake Chris' hand.

"You drove well today, Hikaru," Chris says. "Are you still sure I can't persuade you to drive for me? Looks like something just opened up."

Hikaru grins faintly. "Maybe another year. I'm sure you have some pretty eager test drivers waiting to fill Jim's shoes until he's back."

Then Jim stirs and groans quietly, and everyone turns their attention to him. McCoy leans over the bed. "Jim?" he asks quietly and then again, a little louder, "Jim?"

Jim groans again and opens one eye. "What?" he demands, sounding a little slurred.

"Jim, do you remember what happened?" McCoy asks. Hikaru notices everyone leaning in slightly as they wait for Jim's answer. He's done it too, without realising.

"I... crashed," Jim says slowly. "I broke my leg?"

"That's putting it mildly, but yeah, good enough for me." McCoy sounds relieved. He straightens up and looks at Chris and George. "The fact that he can remember what happened so soon after a general anaesthetic is a good sign."

"I'm _right here_ ," Jim says in an annoyed voice, but then the fight seems to drop right out of him and he falls asleep again in front of their eyes.

"And that's going to go on for a while," McCoy says, matter-of-factly. "If anyone needs to get anything done, now would be a good time."

Hikaru doesn't need to get anything done, but he does need another cup of coffee or five. The day's starting to catch up with him and he can't even work out how many hours he's been awake, at this point. "I'm going to get some coffee," he says. "Does anyone else want one?"

Everyone but Spock wants one, so he's grateful when Chris offers to come and help him carry them back. "So, I know Jim's leg is broken," Hikaru says when they get to the coffee machine, "but I don't actually know how bad it is."

Chris looks at him in surprise. "No one's told you? Well, he's broken both of the bones in the bottom of his leg, and they both pierced the skin pretty badly." He pauses for Hikaru to look horrified. "Understandably, he was unconscious when he was pulled out of the car. He's also cracked one of the bones in his wrist, but that's negligible compared to the leg." Chris sighs heavily, running one hand through his hair. "So they've pinned everything in his leg back together, and god only knows when he's going to be well enough to drive again."

"Fuck," Hikaru says, stabbing at a button on the machine. "I mean, I knew it was bad, but that's just awful."

Chris nods. "But you know Jim. He never does anything by halves. If he has to break his leg, by god, he's going to snap the damn thing in two. On the other hand... that's one of the things that makes him such a good driver."

"Like his dad, right?" Hikaru asks. "I used to watch him racing all the time when I was a kid. And you, of course," he adds hastily, remembering that George and Chris raced together; that's why Jim was the first driver Chris had approached when he set up his own team three years ago. The machine finishes pouring the last coffee, and he carefully picks up three of the cups, letting Chris get the other two.

"I've never known two drivers to be more similar," Chris says, shaking his head as they start to walk back. "Maybe there's something in the water in Iowa."

"I hope not," Hikaru replies. "Can you imagine there being a whole state full of Jims? One is plenty."

When they get back to Jim's room, they discover the nurses have decided Jim should only have one visitor at a time. George wants to stay with him for the time being, so once Hikaru's delivered his coffee, he goes back to the relatives room and the magazines with the others. George comes into the room some time later, looking exhausted. "He's awake again. He wants to talk to you, Chris." Chris nods and they switch places.

Nyota and Spock leave after about half an hour, Nyota promising George they'll be back in the morning. Spock doesn't say anything.

He gets his chance to talk to Jim a few hours before dawn.

"Hikaru. Fancy seeing you here," Jim says, his voice cracking slightly halfway through. Hikaru remembers he hasn't been allowed anything to drink in case he needs to go back into surgery.

"You know, man, I knew you were a bad driver, but I didn't realise you were just going to forget how to do it during a race," Hikaru says as he sits down in the chair by Jim's bed, trying to keep his tone light.

Jim lets out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, laugh it up, Sulu. This is all an extremely involved psychological trick. I'm lulling you into a false sense of security, just you wait." There's a long pause while they stare at each other. "Okay, so it's put some things into perspective for me."

"What sort of things?" he asks.

"Oh, you know." Jim shrugs. "'Am I making the right choices in life?' That sort of thing."

"Did you hit your head, too?"

"Seriously, Hikaru." He sighs, looking down. "I really thought I was going to die the moment I hit the tyre wall."

"Jim, you're a great driver. You're not going to let something like this stop you, surely?"

"Well... no. But maybe it's time to settle down and appreciate what I've got, or something."

Hikaru grins. "Does this mean you're going to stop sleeping around? Jim, you're breaking my heart."

"Sorry, man, it was never going to work between us," Jim says. "The temptation to sabotage your car will always be too strong. By the way, did you sabotage my car?"

"I wish I could take the credit, but not this time." He shrugs and grins, shifting in his seat.

"It must have been Engineer Jailbait, then. How is he, anyway?"

"Pavel's been kind of weird around me lately, actually," Hikaru says. He frowns slightly at the thought.

"Well, yeah, he's jealous of me," Jim says, without a hint of self-consciousness.

"Uh... I'm not sure what you have to do with anything, Jim."

"You know, your cluelessness when it comes to human relationships is really amazing. You're definitely the reigning champion of that."

"But we're just friends! I'm friends with him, too; he doesn't need to be jealous of you."

"Friends who are _fucking_ ," Jim says meaningfully.

"But he doesn't know that," Hikaru protests. Jim doesn't exactly look guilty, but something in his expression makes Hikaru pause. "How does he know we're sleeping together?" he asks, feeling a bit sick.

"He kind of walked into your hotel room one of the times I stayed the night. You were still asleep, but I was awake."

"Oh, jesus." He groans and drops his head into his hands. "No wonder he's been so bitchy about me spending time with you or anyone else on your team."

Jim carefully reaches out with his good arm to pat Hikaru's shoulder. "There, there."

"You are such an asshole."

"I think that means I'm right about everything," Jim says thoughtfully. "He likes you, you like him, and everyone gets a happy ending."

"I didn't know you were the kind of person who believed in that," Hikaru says.

"I like to keep the mystery alive. You should know that, at least."

"So, who's your happy ending?" He raises his eyebrows. "Someone close to home?"

"It's kind of awesome that I cracked my wrist as well," Jim says. He's apparently decided it's time for a change of subject and he ignores the question entirely. Hikaru looks at him in confusion. Jim's tangents border on legendary, but this is an impressive one, even for him. "Well, if I'm not getting a cast on my leg, I need something for the ladies to sign."

"Yes, Jim, that's just what it's there for," Hikaru says, rolling his eyes. "You're fucking unstoppable, aren't you?"

"That's how they made me," Jim replies with a winning smile.

He doesn't have to, but Hikaru stays with Jim for the rest of the night. George gets back fairly soon after Jim falls asleep and they sit together in silent vigil. A few hours after the sun comes up, a doctor comes in to talk to Jim about his prognosis.

"I can't see the wrist being a problem, but you're going to need some intensive physio on that leg before you can even think about racing again," says the doctor. "If you're lucky, you'll be fit for the beginning of the next season. With the severity of the damage to your leg, you'll need a minimum of six months to recover well enough to drive again."

"Six months?" Jim says. "I'll do it in three."

***

While Hikaru's still in England, he visits Jim in the hospital every day. It's a bit of a pain but he manages to fit everything in. It shouldn't be weird for him, going to things like the Festival of Speed without Jim, but it is.

The day before Hikaru's due to head out to the Nürburgring for the German Grand Prix, he goes to say goodbye to Jim. McCoy's in the room with him when Hikaru arrives, apparently doing the same thing before he leaves with the rest of the Pike team. Jim's face is lit up, watching McCoy. When McCoy thinks no one can see him, the expression he wears is pretty similar.

"You two are so obvious," Hikaru says with a grin after McCoy leaves.

"What?"

"Jim, if you think I can't tell that McCoy's the one you've been talking about all along, you must think I'm an idiot."

"I don't know what you mean," Jim says grumpily.

"Oh, come on. I bet he's told you his first name and everything."

"I don't know why you think his name's such a secret. It's Leonard."

"Oooh, _Leonard_ ," Hikaru says, feeling like a teenager as soon as it's out of his mouth.

Jim apparently agrees, and he rolls his eyes at him. Of course, he's never been any more mature. "Whatever, _Dickaru_. So what if I like him? If you like _Pavel_ , you should do something about that."

"Did you just call me 'Dickaru'? What the hell, man, take that back!"

"I will if you do something about Chekov."

"I will if you and McCoy do something instead of just giving each other sappy looks," he says, and somehow they end up agreeing that that's what they should do. He realises Jim is going to take it as a challenge—a race—because that's just how Jim is. And considering Jim and McCoy are on more than friendly terms already, even if Jim doesn't seem to want to own up to that, Jim has a head start. He might actually win this one.

They speak on the phone a lot after that. Hikaru tells Jim about the races ("It's like you think I'm not watching them on TV, idiot.") and Jim tells Hikaru about his physical therapy and the apparently bracing minutes he spends in a cryogenic chamber to promote healing.

"Does this mean you're going to live into the distant future?" Hikaru asks.

"That'd be _great_ ," Jim says enthusiastically. "I bet spaceships are much faster than my car."

"Jim, you're a menace."

"Wait until you hear what I did at this year's Revival."

"Oh, I heard."

***

Jim does it. Of course he does it; he's Jim Kirk and the laws of the universe don't apply to him. He turns up at the track in Suzuka and he's not even walking with a stick. If Hikaru didn't know to look for Jim's very faint limp, he wouldn't be able to tell anything had happened.

But of course, something had happened, and as close as Jim is to superhuman, he isn't quite close enough, so he doesn't win his first race back. Hikaru is second and Jim comes in a more than respectable third. It's a comforting feeling having Jim back on the podium with him. Hikaru can admit it to Jim, too, now that there's no way he can catch Hikaru's championship lead with so few races remaining in the season.

The only trouble is, now that Jim's back, Hikaru is hyper-aware of Pavel's attention fixed on them both whenever he and Jim are together. Things between them were better while Jim was in England healing, but apparently his reappearance has been enough to trigger the jealousy that Hikaru missed the first time around.

"You should just tell him we're not fucking any more, then fuck him," Jim says in São Paulo. Things are going his way with McCoy, so he seems to think he can give Hikaru advice.

"Stop saying 'fuck'," Hikaru says irritably.

"Why? Because you're not getting to fuck anyone?" He holds up his hand to hush Hikaru. "Seriously, you're going to have to say _something_. This is real life, not a fairy tale where you're just going to fall into each other's arms without any discussion."

Hikaru crosses his arms, shooting Jim a disgruntled look. "And what if you're wrong and he's upset about something else?"

"When am I ever wrong?"

Annoyingly, Hikaru can't seem to remember a time when he has been.

He thinks about it for the remainder of October, in the run up to the final race of the season. Somehow, in spite of all the time he's spending with Pavel, he never finds the right time to bring it up. He's got to work with the guy, after all. If Jim is wrong, it could make their working relationship incredibly awkward.

 _Then again_ , Hikaru thinks, after an incident where Pavel tosses a clipboard at him with rather more force than was really necessary, _things aren't exactly peachy as they are_. He decides that if he wins this race, it's a sign that he should say something to Pavel.

At first, things seem like they aren't going to go his way. In first practice, he somehow manages to blow a tyre and spin out. He only barely makes it into the second qualifying session on Saturday, and in the end qualifies a poor—for him—eighth place. All in all, it looks as if it isn't going to be his weekend.

He wonders if he'll ever talk to Pavel outside of work again.

To his surprise, he has a good start in the race. He wouldn't have been shocked in the slightest if he'd stalled on the grid and ended up at the very back of the pack, the way his luck has been up until now.

It's a tough race, and Hikaru can't relax for a minute of it. Even when he gets to the front of the field, he's convinced something's going to go wrong and puts in several blistering laps when he doesn't have any real need to. He knows people are talking to him over the radio; he replies, but he's not really conscious of what's being said.

And then, somehow, he's still at the front of the field, and he can see the chequered flag being waved from the pit wall.

He thinks he hears Pavel saying, "Congratulations, Hikaru," before everyone else is shouting over the radio at him. He's babbling nonsense back at them as he completes his victory lap and pulls into _parc fermé_.

Hikaru's hands are shaking so much he can hardly put the steering wheel back into his car. The win wasn't necessary, but it's the icing on the cake of his championship—and perhaps one of his relationships, too. Once the wheel clicks back into place he almost throws himself into the outstretched arms of his team at the barrier. Pavel's there but he's hanging back, and Hikaru only catches his eye for a second before another wave of hugs engulf him.

On the podium, Jim throws himself against Hikaru as soon as the national anthems have been played and pours champagne down the back of his neck. "Congratulations," he says in a sing-song voice. "It's still manly even if you cry. I did last year."

"Thanks for the reassurance, but I think I'll assert my manliness like this," Hikaru replies dryly, and sprays some of his champagne into Jim's face. Then he turns to spray Kamui as well, before his teammate has time to get him first.

There's a lot more press this time, now he's won the championship. He does the usual post-race press conference, slightly extended for the occasion, and several more photo ops than he'd normally have to do as well. He knows there'll be even more over the next few days, but he still can't stop himself from smiling. His face hurts from smiling so much that by the end of the evening he feels as if he's going to need the next week to recover. There's still something weighing on his mind, though, and he goes to look for his race engineer, feeling more anxious than he thinks he should.

Hikaru finds Pavel in the garage by himself. He's doing something on one of the computers, his back to Hikaru. "Pavel," he says.

Pavel turns to face him. "I'm working," he says.

"We're going out to celebrate. I thought you might want to come."

"Okay. I'm busy."

There's a long pause while they look at each other. Then Hikaru says, "I'm not—I'm not with Jim."

"Okay," Pavel says again, and he turns back to the screen.

***

Every year, when the season ends, Hikaru goes home to San Francisco. He bought his own home there years ago, but for the first week or so, he always goes back to stay with his parents in the house where he grew up. He goes to the gym a few times, but mostly he lies on the couch and watches the DVDs his sisters left behind when they moved out.

Pavel went back to England, he knows. He's thrown himself into his work and isn't answering his cell. Hikaru left him a message the day he arrived home, to let Pavel know he'd made it there safely, but Pavel still hasn't answered. Briefly, after watching _An Officer and a Gentleman_ , Hikaru entertains fantasies of flying back to England and whisking him away from the factory. Of course, he realises that Pavel would probably kick him in the face if he were to try something like that, so it stays a fantasy.

Jim is also in England. He bought a house there during his convalescence and has been renovating it; mostly by himself, though everything he does is under the watchful eye of McCoy. They seem blissfully happy in their own way, and Hikaru's glad for Jim. He just wishes Jim would be slightly less forthcoming about their sex life.

"And he does this _thing_ with his tongue and my f—"

" _Goodbye_ , Jim."

He says goodbye to his parents after about ten days, returning to his empty house with more than a little reluctance. It's always empty, but this time it feels a little stranger. Hikaru might never have been with Jim properly, but Jim was always there for him, and he misses the comfort that came from that knowledge. Last year, too, Pavel was still talking to him. He even came to stay for a few weeks before they both headed back to the UK for initial testing on Hikaru's car. This year, he can't even get Pavel to answer the phone when he calls.

The gym is a great distraction. Not only does it get Hikaru out of the house, but he can lose himself listening to music as he runs on one of the treadmills. He spends probably more time there than he ought to, but he makes excuses to himself about needing to stay in shape. With no one around to challenge him, Hikaru finds himself there at all hours of the day and night.

He's coming home from the gym one evening in December, sometime between eight and nine, in the pouring rain, when he sees something entirely unexpected.

Pavel's waiting outside his house. He's standing on the porch, one arm clutching his coat around him and the other holding his bag over his head. Unfortunately for Pavel, the wind is blowing the rain directly towards him, and he's soaked to the skin, curls plastered to his skull. Hikaru wants to laugh at how utterly unprepared for a San Francisco winter he is; especially when he's just come from England, which is never any better, in Hikaru's experience.

"Pavel," he says when he's close enough to be heard over the weather. "What are you doing here?"

"I think I would rather talk indoors," Pavel says. He looks more miserable than Hikaru's ever seen him before.

"Me too." He closes his umbrella, then digs out his keys to unlock the door and let them both inside. "I'll, uh, get you a towel. Try not to drip too much on the floor."

"Because I can control that," Pavel says. He's starting to sound a little more like himself already, just a trace of sarcasm leaking into his voice.

"Put your back into it, Chekov," Hikaru replies, and then he goes upstairs to find Pavel a clean towel and a change of clothes. He wouldn't bet on any of the clothes in Pavel's bag being dry after it was used as a makeshift umbrella, and they're much the same height, though Pavel's a little skinnier.

He makes Pavel a hot drink while he dries himself off and changes clothes; then they reconvene in the living room. Pavel mutters his thanks when he takes the drink from Hikaru, wrapping his hands around it as he sips slowly, and then they sit in silence for a while. The only noise is the rain outside hammering on the windows.

"Pretty heavy," Hikaru remarks after a few minutes have passed, just for something to say.

"What?"

"The rain, it's..." He trails off, feeling a bit stupid.

Pavel curls his fingers more tightly around the mug. "Yes, I suppose it is." The second pause isn't quite as long as the first and Pavel is the one to break it this time. "I think you must be wondering why I am here."

"I was slightly curious," Hikaru says. "You weren't picking up my calls or answering my messages. And now you've turned up at my place unannounced and uninvited." Pavel has the grace to look embarrassed at that. "I mean, I'm sure you've got a great explanation. I just have no idea of what it could be."

"I _can_ explain," Pavel says, but he lapses into silence again. Hikaru looks at him expectantly. "Jim Kirk came to the factory."

That wasn't really what Hikaru was expecting to hear. "He did?" he asks cautiously.

"Yes, but I wouldn't see him. So then he came to my flat. I don't know how he found out where I live, but he did, and he said I had to let him talk to me."

"And I'm guessing you did," Hikaru says.

Pavel nods. "He said you weren't together and you never had been. That it was just sex and it was over since his accident happened."

"I told you that. Something like that, anyway."

"I know you did, but... I don't know. I didn't believe you, I suppose. I think he's quite persuasive. And he told me how he's with McCoy now."

"He is. He has this pathological need for domesticity and blowjobs, and apparently McCoy is the perfect man for him in both respects."

"Putting aside the fact that you know that," Pavel says, giving him an odd look, "then he told me that he had bought a plane ticket for the next day and I should come here and have sex with you."

"Oh, good, he's an _international_ voyeuristic sex maniac, now."

"A rich one," Pavel says, sighing. "Now I owe him several thousand pounds."

"He's not going to make you pay him back, Pavel, I'm sure of it."

"Maybe not, but I don't want to be in his debt any more than I have to be." Pavel finishes his drink and sets it down on the coffee table, then draws his knees up to his chest with a yawn. "I feel as if I've been awake forever."

"I'll make up the guest bedroom for you," Hikaru says without thinking; without stopping to consider that Pavel might be expecting to be sleeping somewhere a little different.

Luckily, he doesn't seem to be. "That sounds great," he says. "Thank you, Hikaru."

Pavel stands in the doorway and watches Hikaru making the bed, which makes him feel slightly uncomfortable, as if Pavel has something he wants to say about his bed-making technique.

"I'm sorry for not talking to you," he says quietly, leaning against the doorframe. "It was a lot easier to be angry with you, even though you didn't know you'd done anything wrong."

"It's not as if I was keen to spill my guts, either," Hikaru says. "We're as stupid as each other."

"Well. I wasn't going to go that far," Pavel says, quirking an eyebrow. He comes into the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed.

"Sorry, my mistake. You know where everything is, right?" he asks, smiling vaguely. "I mean, if you need a drink or whatever in the night, you can find the glasses and stuff?"

"Oh, yes." Pavel nods to him, then flops back onto the bed. He spreads his arms wide. "I think I can manage, thank you."

"Okay, then. Goodnight, Pavel."

"Goodnight," he replies, turning his head to look at Hikaru. There's something in his gaze that makes Hikaru feel hot and uncomfortable in a way he's still not quite prepared to deal with. He panics slightly and says goodnight again, twice, before leaving in a hurry.

He goes back downstairs and watches TV until he can't keep his eyes open any longer in an attempt to keep his mind off everything it wants to over-think.

Hikaru's almost forgotten about Pavel's presence by the time he wakes up the next morning. It's still raining outside and most of the lights are on in his house. He's alarmed for a minute before he remembers he has a guest. He must have slept badly; he's managed to take off his t-shirt in his sleep and it's hanging off one of the handles on his chest of drawers. Once he's retrieved it, he checks his cell—one message from Jim, asking if he's "hit that yet", which he deletes—and goes to see how Pavel's slept.

He finds him in the kitchen, still wearing the borrowed t-shirt and sweatpants that he wore to bed the night before. The room smells horribly of burnt coffee. "Pavel?"

"I'm sorry," Pavel says immediately. "I couldn't sleep any longer, because of the time difference and the jet lag. Did I wake you? I didn't mean to, I was trying to be quiet. But I think I broke your coffee thing. I'm sorry, I'll replace it."

Hikaru closes his eyes briefly, trying to process the torrent of words. "No, right, they don't have those in Britain. It's fine; it was cheap. And you didn't wake me. Do you want to use the shower first?"

"Do you mind?" Pavel asks, looking guiltily at the coffee pot. As well as burning the coffee, he's managed to crack the glass somehow, and a sort of black sludge is oozing out of it.

"Knock yourself out. I'll clear up in here." He eyes the sludge cautiously. "Was that coffee?"

"A long time ago, perhaps." Pavel clears his throat, offering Hikaru a cautious smile. "Now, I really don't know."

The man he trusts with his life for most of the year can't figure out how to use a coffee pot. He smiles back at Pavel, feeling slightly hysterical, and hesitantly touches his shoulder. "Go and shower, okay? Just let me know when you're done so I can have one, too."

The coffee sludge seems to be trying to weld itself to the counter and Hikaru gets quite caught up in scraping it off. Of course, it's either that or he spends the entire time thinking about Pavel in the shower, and he knows which of the two he ought to be concentrating on. He doesn't bother trying to get the sludge that's still inside the pot out, and instead just drops it into the garbage can.

"I'm finished," says a voice from behind him. Pavel's dressed in his own clothes again, which have dried overnight, but his hair is still damp. Hikaru wants to reach out and touch it.

"Did you break my shower, too?" he asks instead.

"Fuck off," Pavel says, and they both laugh. Hikaru thinks this might be the most relaxed he's felt with Pavel in months.

Once he's showered and dressed as well, they go to a diner a few blocks from the house for breakfast. When he replaces his coffee pot, he'll teach Pavel how to use it, but for now the safest option to get caffeine into both of them seems to be to have someone else make it for them.

They order and then talk about nothing while they wait for their breakfasts to come. Pavel asks after Hikaru's family, having met them enough times in the past to be on semi-friendly terms, and then he tells him about the improvements they've already started making on Hikaru's car for the next season. "No KERS?" asks Hikaru, pretending to bite his nails.

"No KERS," Pavel confirms with a small smile. "We're not going to do that to you, Hikaru, everyone knows how you feel about KERS."

"Pavel?" he asks suddenly. "Why are you a mechanic and not a driver? You're good—you're _really_ good. I've seen you on the test track."

"I'm not good enough," Pavel says. "My family wasn't rich enough for me to get good enough. And now I'm too old."

"You're nineteen. You're the youngest race engineer in F1, and the best I've ever worked with."

Pavel laughs. "Don't be stupid, Hikaru. When you were nineteen you were already winning Grands Prix. I couldn't do that. And it's fine, I'm happy as I am." He pokes at his bacon absently with his fork, grinning at Hikaru. "Who'd want to be a driver, anyway? You're all self-absorbed narcissists."

"Hey. Not everyone is Jim, thank god. And if you don't want that, I'll have it."

"This isn't a race weekend, Hikaru, you don't need to calorie-load now. And if you want to calorie-load for another reason, you can order your own bacon."

Hikaru doesn't want to be the one to say it, but it almost feels as if they're on a date. And he doesn't think it feels like a first date, either, if he's not reading something into Pavel's words that isn't really there. "I don't know if I want it enough to pay for it," Hikaru says, then colours slightly. That really didn't come out the way he intended.

Luckily, Pavel just laughs and passes him a few slices of the bacon.

"Is there anything you want to do while you're in town?" Hikaru asks as they're finishing up the meal. He drains the last of the coffee from his cup and looks at Pavel expectantly.

"A few things, perhaps," Pavel replies, then refuses to elaborate.

"Well, I need to pick up some groceries. I don't really have a lot in the house, and I guess you like to eat. And I need a new coffee pot."

"I'm still sorry about that," he says, looking over the bill and pulling some money out of his wallet.

"Are you ever going to tell me what you actually did to make that happen?" Hikaru asks, holding his hand out for the bill. Pavel passes it over and puts his wallet back into his jeans. "Well?"

"Honestly, Hikaru? I don't think I'm that sorry."

Pavel opts to stay at the house while Hikaru goes shopping. He settles himself on the sofa to watch the Discovery Channel. "I like spotting the factual errors," he says. "You'd be surprised by how many there are."

"I'll take your word for it," Hikaru says, and leaves him to it.

He's not out for long—two hours at the very most—but when he gets back, Pavel's asleep again. One hand is curled under his cheek, and his other arm is hugging a cushion to his chest. Jet lag doesn't normally knock him on his ass like this, Hikaru knows. He smiles and goes to put away the groceries before returning to the living room and turning off the TV.

"Hey," he says quietly, sitting down next to Pavel and touching his shoulder. "You okay?"

Pavel opens his eyes slowly. "Hikaru, come here," he says sleepily. He lets go of the cushion and reaches out to Hikaru, leaning up until their lips touch. Hikaru's already shifting closer to Pavel, half-lying against him and kissing him again carefully as he feels Pavel's arm tighten around him.

 _This isn't so weird_ , he thinks. Then Pavel laughs against his mouth, a short gust of breath, and he realises he said it aloud.

"It's not weird and you don't have to treat me like I'm going to shatter," Pavel says, and something bends and snaps inside Hikaru. He bites down on Pavel's lip, eliciting a startled hiss from between his teeth that Hikaru revels in. He flicks his tongue against the same spot, then the seam of his lips until Pavel parts them, immediately sliding their tongues together.

It's easy, this.

Somehow, they get shifted around so Pavel's lying on top of him, Hikaru's leg between his thighs and both their t-shirts rucked up by roaming hands as they make out on the couch like teenagers. And Pavel might still be a teenager, just barely, but Hikaru thought he'd outgrown this kind of thing about seven years before now. But with Pavel's tongue lazily playing against his and his fingers, rough from years of burns and calluses, brushing teasingly across his nipples—not to mention the noises Pavel makes every time Hikaru discovers something he really likes, and this is just _making out_ —Hikaru wonders why he ever gave it up.

He breaks the kiss to lick and nip along Pavel's jaw, sucking lightly at the soft skin beneath his ear. Pavel sighs and starts to move his hips, rocking down in a slow rhythm onto Hikaru's thigh.

"Oh, fuck, yeah," Hikaru says breathlessly against his neck. He splays his fingers across the small of Pavel's back, raising his leg to apply slight pressure in response.

Pavel exhales sharply and lifts himself up and off, moving to crouch between Hikaru's legs and unfasten his trousers. He drags them—and Hikaru's underwear—down to his knees before he seems to lose patience and leans forwards abruptly.

"What are you...? _Unh_ —"

It's not a word in any language that comes out of Hikaru's mouth when Pavel wraps his lips around his dick and starts to suck. His eyes are fixed on Hikaru's face as he watches for clues to what he likes, and it's so intense that Hikaru has no idea how long he can last between the look in Pavel's eyes and the feel of his tongue beneath the head of his cock. He can't tear his eyes away from Pavel's face, and because of that he almost doesn't notice that Pavel's pushed his jeans down enough to start jerking himself off.

" _No_ ," Hikaru says. "I want to make you come."

Pavel lifts his head in surprise, Hikaru's cock slipping out of his mouth, and Hikaru clenches his fingers in the front of his t-shirt and pulls him up for another kiss, his breath hitching in his throat when their cocks bump together and Pavel grinds against him eagerly. Hikaru wants to dismiss this as another regression to his teenage years, but it feels so good that he can't help but respond in kind, thrusting up so their dicks rub.

After that, Hikaru isn't sure which one of them is making the noises he can hear. He can't think too hard on it; everything in him is focused on the friction and the heat they're generating. He wants to wrap his legs around Pavel and just let go of everything, but he's pinned down by his trousers and Pavel's weight.

He settles for sucking Pavel's lip into his mouth and grinding back against him until the feeling of his cock trapped between two bodies is too overwhelming for him to ignore. He gasps Pavel's name hoarsely, pulling at his t-shirt uselessly and coming with a jerk of his hips.

Pavel shudders and moves faster on top of him, pressing their mouths together without finesse as he thrusts into the new slickness between them. "Oh god, _god_ ," he says, sounding surprised, and then he comes hard as well, panting against Hikaru's lips until he's recovered slightly.

Their eyes meet after a moment.

"That was better than winning the championship," Hikaru says without thinking.

"If you think you're getting a trophy for this, you can think again," Pavel says, pushing himself up with both hands to slide back and lie between his legs. He leans in to lick up the cooling sweat and come pooling on Hikaru's stomach. His breath is hot and Hikaru feels his skin prickling with every exhalation.

He groans faintly. "Oh, god, you're trying to kill me and take my job. Aren't you? Tell me. I think you owe me."

"You're so melodramatic, Hikaru," Pavel replies.

 _Fuck_ , he loves the way Pavel says his name at the best of times. When Pavel says it between swipes of his tongue over Hikaru's belly, he feels like he might die; it's almost too much to handle. He's already starting to get hard again and there's no way Pavel can miss that fact.

When he finishes, he lays his cheek against Hikaru's thigh and just looks up at him.

"This is the awkward part," Hikaru says eventually. "Let's go to the bedroom and we can maybe... do something to help us forget about it."

"Smooth."

"I know, right?" he says, and they grin at each other.

Pavel sits up and kicks his jeans the rest of the way off, then pulls his t-shirt over his head. Hikaru just lies where he is for the moment, happy to watch. Pavel's so pale, and Hikaru can understand that when Pavel spends so much of his time indoors or entirely covered up, or both, but his shoulders are freckled. Hikaru wants to ask him why.

Instead, he just copies Pavel and strips out of the clothes that he's barely managed to keep on up until now.

They don't talk as they go up to Hikaru's bedroom, but Pavel does curl his hand around Hikaru's hip, stroking lightly. They stop at the top of the stairs to kiss hungrily. Hikaru buries his fingers in Pavel's curls, pulling his head back so he can lean in and scrape his teeth over his Adam's apple. Pavel groans and they stumble a few steps closer to the bedroom, stopping again at the door for more of the same.

By the time they make it into the room, finally, Hikaru wants to push Pavel against the wall and fuck him there and then. But instead he steers Pavel carefully backwards, until his legs bump into the side of the bed. Pavel presses his nose against the edge of Hikaru's jaw, running his palms over his back and his shoulders in circles that slowly shrink in size, until he's barely touching Hikaru with his fingertips.

"Hey," Hikaru says softly. "What are you doing?"

"Touching," Pavel says. "Learning. You want to try?" He leans in to kiss him, cupping Hikaru's face in his hands and then pulling him down onto the bed.

This time, Hikaru's on top, spreading himself across Pavel's body as he tries to get as much contact between them as he can. He moves his hands over every accessible inch of Pavel's skin, followed by his lips, which note and memorise every small blemish. "What's this one from?" he asks.

"Chicken pox scar," Pavel replies quietly.

"And this one?"

"I fell out of a taxi when I was drunk."

Hikaru laughs breathlessly and kisses the scar, closing his eyes. "Even your mistakes are awesome. Who falls out of a cab? How did you even manage that?"

"I think we're going to stop talking about this now," Pavel says, tugging at Hikaru's hair until he lifts his head. Then he kisses him deeply, sucking Hikaru's tongue into his mouth and stopping him from saying anything else even if he wanted to.

He lets out a muffled moan as Pavel drags his nails lightly along his spine and rolls his hips leisurely against Pavel's thigh as he returns the kiss, sighing every time Pavel changes his position slightly and their cocks nudge together. It's good—more than good—but Hikaru needs more.

"Can I fuck you?" he asks quietly, pressing closer to him. "Pavel, I need to be inside you."

Pavel nods and says, "I was about to suggest that."

He reaches for his nightstand, then pauses suddenly. "Are you sure you want to—"

"We've already had sex once, Hikaru. If I had any doubts, they're long gone by now." He smiles at Hikaru, and it's true; there's no doubt in his expression. "So fuck me, _please_ ," he adds.

"Not a request," Hikaru says, slightly pleased by that, and he sits up to retrieve his lube and a condom packet from the drawer. He's not expecting Pavel to take the lube from his hand and start preparing himself, pressing his fingers inside with a breathy moan as he works them slowly back and forth. He's putting on a show for Hikaru and it's working. "Jesus," he says, watching Pavel's fingers disappearing and reappearing.

"I'll take care of this," Pavel says, his breath catching only slightly in his throat. "You deal with your end."

Hikaru just nods speechlessly and opens the condom, rolling it on as quickly and carefully as he can. He picks up the lube from next to Pavel and slicks himself up. On a sudden impulse, he slowly slides one finger inside Pavel as well, alongside his own fingers. Pavel moans again and not just for show, this time, judging by the way he rocks faster down onto their hands. He crooks the digit slightly, then pulls it back out.

"You ready?" he asks, his voice a bit hoarse.

Pavel eases his fingers out of himself as well and just says, " _Hikaru_."

"Okay." He's already kneeling, so he moves forward to position himself. Pavel obliges by wrapping his legs around his hips, crossing them at the ankles behind Hikaru's back and clenching his fingers in the sheets as Hikaru slides inside him. "Oh, god, Pavel."

"Yes, yes, yes," Pavel chants, then he says something in Russian. Hikaru doesn't understand it at all, apart from his name, but he hopes it means something like: _yes, fuck me hard, Hikaru, fuck me now_. That's what he's planning to do. He tries to start out slow, until Pavel makes a desperate, needy noise and arches off the bed, wrapping his hand around Hikaru's wrist. He says something else in Russian, staring into Hikaru's eyes and spitting it out harshly; then, "Come on, fuck me."

Hikaru moans at that and obeys, holding onto Pavel's thighs to steady him as he moves faster. At first he tries to keep some semblance of a rhythm, but he's watching Pavel's face as well, and every time it contorts with pleasure, he gets a fraction closer to just giving in and driving into Pavel without any regard for technique.

When Pavel groans in the back of his throat and tenses around Hikaru's dick, it's the breaking point for him. He angles his hips and thrusts hard, repeatedly, until Pavel's trembling around him and Hikaru sees something break in his eyes, too.

He wraps his hand around his cock and Hikaru immediately does the same, closing his fingers over the top of Pavel's and tightening them until he cries out, thrusting into their hands. His muscles clench, contracting hard as he comes with something that sounds like a sob, spilling over their fingers and his stomach. Hikaru's dick twitches at the sensation and the look on his face, and then he's coming as well, buried as deeply inside Pavel as he can manage.

"Fuck," he says in a strangled voice. "Pavel."

Pavel unhooks his legs and drops them, tugging some tissues from the box on the nightstand. He mops at the come on his stomach, then flicks everything into the trash can. "Don't pull out," he says. When Hikaru slumps on top of him, he makes a small noise of discomfort and says, "Pull out. I changed my mind, pull out."

Hikaru laughs and shifts his hips to pull out, peeling the condom off and reaching over to drop it into the trash with the used tissues. Then he kisses the corner of Pavel's mouth softly, lying down against his side.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he asks, skimming his hand over Pavel's belly.

"Some," Pavel says. His eyes are closed and he's smiling slightly, just the corners of his mouth turned up. Hikaru can't decide if he looks more like an angel or a devil. He doesn't really care, as long as Pavel never stops doing the things he did today, and he tells him so. He laughs, and Hikaru realises, now that he's hearing it again, how much he's missed Pavel's laugh over the last six months.

"I missed your laugh," he says, because he suddenly wants Pavel to know. "When are you going home?"

"You're asking because you want me to stay, not go, right?"

"Yes, stay. Fuck, you think I'd want you to leave after that?"

"I don't know." Pavel opens his eyes and looks up at Hikaru, grinning crookedly. "I've heard all about your loving and leaving."

"You mean you've just made it up."

"Yes, that too." He laughs again and nuzzles Hikaru's jaw. "Don't think I'm going to move to America for you, though. I like being close to the factory and I like my flat."

"I wasn't going to ask. We see each other plenty, anyway."

They lapse into a comfortable silence. Pavel traces more circles over Hikaru's skin, down the length of his arm and to his hand, while Hikaru shifts down to press his ear against Pavel's chest and listen to his heartbeat.

"I really can't get over you," he says after a while, mouthing lightly at Pavel's clavicle until he shivers. "I just... you're amazing and you're here with me. Look at you."

"I wish I'd known you were a crazy man before I let you fuck me," Pavel says, sounding resigned. "And if you say you're 'crazy in love', I'm leaving. For more than one reason."

"Fuck. Okay." He laughs and kisses the crook of Pavel's neck, then his throat.

Pavel sighs contentedly and rubs his fingertips over the back of Hikaru's neck. "Tomorrow morning," he says, idly combing through Hikaru's hair, "or later today, you're going to suck my cock."

Hikaru couldn't agree with him more.


End file.
